Dirty Little Love Story (7 page)

It was a spur of the moment decision and I felt him go rigid as soon as our lips connected. I didn’t move away though, licking his lips softly and prying them open with my shy tongue.

He stood frozen to the spot for a while, but his arms hesitantly found their way around my waist and pulled me against his body.

He was strong and tough, all muscle. He was so much taller than me I had to stand on tiptoes to reach his lips. His delicious, glorious lips, that were making it all better, if only for a night.

Our kiss grew from a soft exploration to a wild need in seconds. He clutched me close and I buried my fingers in his hair, thankful for the feel of him, the taste of him.

“Don’t stop,” I whispered softly against his lips when I feared he would move away.

“I don’t think I can,” he replied with a deep voice and I felt my whole body shiver in his hands.

He lifted me up then, and carried me away from the entrance, pushing me against the wall of the building. I wrapped my legs around his body tightly, trying to get as close as humanly possible.

His hands found my ass and he groaned in my mouth, his tongue finding mine and teasing it relentlessly. I’d never done something like this before and my heart was thumping loudly in my chest.

Beat, beat, beat – this is happening.

Beat, beat – I want you so badly.

Beat – This is wrong.

Beat – But it feels so good.

“Don’t tell my mom,” I whispered in his mouth, and it was as if I’d dumped a bucket of ice cold water over his head. He lowered me to the ground instantly, his tongue leaving my mouth so I whimpered in protest, reaching out to him to pull him back.

But he moved away, his hands up in his hair, his shirt creased and his tie crooked.

“What the fuck,” he mumbled to himself and I nervously patted my messy updo. He paced around the roof while I looked at him, feeling confused. “Shit, shit, shit,” he kept repeating, and I started feeling more and more lightheaded. He was already regretting it, and it had been seconds since he’d let me go.

“I’ll just be going, then,” I said bitterly and turned to leave. When I was almost at the exit, his hands grabbed me from behind and spun me around, and the butterflies in my stomach batted their wings once more.

“What?” I asked angrily, looking up into his dark eyes.

His face was twisted and angry, his frown scaring me. I recoiled from his touch and tried to get away, but he held on tightly.

“Why did you do that?” he snarled at me and I looked back up, surprised.

“Do what?” I asked, genuinely concerned for my own safety. He wasn’t hurting me – yet. His grip was tight and didn’t allow me to move an inch.

“Kiss me,” he groaned in my face, his frown deepening, and I felt my face go as red as a beet.

I ripped my arm out of his hand with all the force I could muster up, and since my resistance surprised him, I stumbled backwards, finally rid of his touch which burned my skin like fire.

“Sorry,” I said roughly. “I just wanted to,” I added lamely, rubbing my arm where it tingled.

“You’re selfish,” he spat out at me, reaching me in two brisk steps so our faces were only inches apart once more. But where it was sexy and hot a few minutes ago, now I felt threatened and scared. “You don’t get to do what you want, don’t you know that? What about other people? You ever think about anyone but yourself?”

Anger simmered in me and I used both my hands to shove him back. He didn’t move an inch and it only made me angrier, so I thumped my fists against his broad chest like a small child, noting the irony of what I was doing.

He grabbed both of my hands in one swift motion, holding them away from his body. His fingers were like hot iron on my wrists and I longed for his mouth to find mine again, but judging by his furious face, that wasn’t about to happen anytime soon.

“I thought you liked me,” I protested angrily and he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the hand that wasn’t holding mine.

“You’re …” he started and left the sentence hanging in the air, which only angered me further.

“I what?” I yelled at him, trying hard to rip myself out of his tight clasp.

“You’re just a kid,” he said softly, and his touch on my wrists loosened. For some reason unknown to me, I stopped struggling for a moment and just watched him, his inner turmoil apparent on his face.

“I’m 18,” I offered as a consolation price.

“You can’t even have a glass of wine with me,” he said sadly, but I thought I saw the corners of his mouth twitching lightly upwards. “And I’m your mother’s lawyer.” He was all business again now. “I promised I’d take care of you. And somehow I don’t think she’d approve of me kissing you.”

“You also felt me up a little,” I offered politely and felt a grin escape my face.

He glared at me, but there was that twitch again. Next second, he sighed and let my hands go. Immediately, I moved closer, my hands on his chest, my lips whispering in his ear.

“She doesn’t have to know,” I said softly. He didn’t move, his head bent down towards mine.

“It was just a kiss,” he complained just as quietly as I did, but I smacked his chest with my hand.

“Okay, then, you won’t mind if we never do it again?” I teased him, moving away.

He took my hand swiftly, but hesitantly, and I stopped. He tugged on my fingers and I moved back, but he was still looking at the floor intently.

“I do mind,” he confessed and a triumphant smile brightened my face. He finally looked up, looking deep into my eyes and I got lost in the depths of dark chocolate.”I’d like to do many things with your mouth, but leaving it alone did not make the list,” he added and I felt goosebumps erupt where he was touching me.

He leaned in close until our lips were almost touching again and I gasped lightly, already ready for the next kiss, the next moment where our lips met and those sparks burned deep inside of me again.

“Our little secret?” I offered.

He nodded, finally breaking into the smile he’d been hiding.

It was an innocent beginning.

Little did we know it was the start of a wicked, twisted journey.

At some point, I realize I won’t be able to stay in bed forever. Sooner or later, I will have to face reality.

After the fourth day of self pity, I finally get up. I wash my hair, dry it and curl it until it floats around my pretty face in those signature flame red waves. I put on my prettiest dress, because I know Rowan is coming home today. I apply makeup – cat eye liner and soft pink lipstick, just how he likes it.

I do it all mindlessly, with the moves of an experienced woman, even though I’m just a girl.

As I finish, I let myself have a brief moment to wallow.

I’m so broken. I’m in pieces. Yet I’ve glued them all back together, every shard, every fragment. They may not hold well, but I’m in place, not shattered on the floor. I can stand. I can talk. I can live.

I think of my past, I think of my present, I think of my future. There is only one constant.

Rowan.

The man I’ve broken myself for is coming home today. And even though it hurts more every time he splits my heart in two, I know I’ll always come back. Always be there. Always love him, only him.

We’re both sick. Twisted.

We pretend we don’t know of each others’ lies. We close our eyes like stubborn children. We pretend like it’s all going to be okay. All we’re doing is breaking each other, tearing off limb by limb, cell after cell, until we’ll be nothing but fine dust.

Our love isn’t pretty.

Our love
hurts
.

But it burns brighter than any other. Oh, how it burns …

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